Oh, Heartache
by reluctantreader
Summary: Depressing drabbles that float through my brain. AH/AU/everything in between. Rated for content.
1. Lavendar Stranger

**Yes, I have angst. I hate it. But, it obviously needs an outlet. All flames acceptable. ~Tay**

**Disclaimer: Steph owns Twilight and domestic violence is no laughing matter.**

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**Song:**

He swept the damp brown hair from my forehead as the music pulsed around us, lights blazing multicolored swirling paths throughout the club. I struggled to choose an answer as fog rolled and curled everywhere, obscuring the magnitude of pressing bodies; bodies just like ours.

"I've never-"

"Shh," He shushed me easily, his eyes a hauntingly unnatural shade of lavender as they bore into mine. Several tendrils of blonde hair escaped his ponytail, but there wasn't a single bead of sweat to cause them to stick.

I tried to shake my head, to clear my thoughts, to peal my body back from his, but he was stronger.

"It'll be fine," was whispered into my ear as he sniffed my hair, just before his cool lips connected with the sweltering sweating flesh of my neck. He lapped and nipped until he made his way to my jaw, then my lips, pausing before pressing us more tightly together. "Did you know you smell divine?"

I swear I felt a growl rumble deep inside of his chest, but I couldn't be sure if it was the fading bass line of a musical jumble that would forever be our song.

**Pain:**

"You're hurting me," I whimpered out, writhing and jerking beneath his stone like grasp encasing my wrists. I lay there, prone, naked, scared; just like I was supposed to be.

"That's the point, isn't it?" he said before another smack ripped through my backside, causing me to shrill out once again. He hadn't broken the skin yet, but I'd never had a very high pain tolerance and that's something he's all about.

He loved to hurt me.

"Please!"

"Please what?" He rubbed his bare palm down my back and legs lazily. "Say it."

"Please," I tried again. "Please make love to me."

"Make love?" There's mirth in his voice. I've changed the script, but I'm tired of fucking. "As you wish."

And we made love, sweet and slow and gentle - well, as gentle as he could be; a complete contradiction to everything that he stood for and everything I wish he could be, always.

And when I woke up, he was there, for he first time since this all started. I sleepily stared into his eyes, smiling to myself.

"Hey, did you get contacts?" I blurted out because in my sleeping haze, I swear his eyes were supposed to be purplish blue, not...muddy brown? What color combinations made his eyes look like that?

"Yeah, I had to get brown because they ran out of the blue," he answered coolly before distracting me with kisses across my collarbone, stopping all thought processes of primary colors.

**Reflection:**

"You're looking kind of thin there, Bells," the concern was evident in my father's voice as we sat in our regular booth for our regular meals for our regular father daughter time.

"I'm fine." I turned my head to the side so that he wouldn't catch my eyes as I lied to him, again - a regular occurrence in the last four months.

"Hmph." He said more - I was sure of it - but I was distracted, catching the reflection of a sallow looking girl - all mousy brown hair and boring brown eyes and faded bruises along her neckline - staring back at me. Sadly, I knew she was me. Even worse, I knew this wouldn't be the half of what was to come.

"Why doesn't that boy of yours ever come out to eat with us? Seems down right disrespectful to me," he grumbles in between bites. "You sure you okay, Bells?" he asks when I don't defend myself or "my boy."

I honestly had no idea why he didn't come eat with me and my dad. I mean, I had asked him to come, but he's either not hungry, or busy. When I thought about it, I realized we never ate together. Maybe that's why I was so thin, I really hadn't been around food as much as I used to. Any time we were alone, things got...heated.

I sighed. "I said I'm fine," I said again, pulling up the collar of my shirt before tugging my sleeves down past my wrists to hide more evidence that I was anything but fine.

**Change:**

"I seriously don't even know who the fuck you are anymore, Bella! This guy just comes into your life and you become his little fuck toy? Is that what you are? I highly fucking doubt that that's what you wanted!" Her voice is loud and shrill.

She was completely incredulous, and she was completely right.

This was not what I had envisioned for myself when I first agreed to go home with the blonde-haired, lavender eyed stranger almost a year ago. He had swept me from my feet, figuratively and literally. He was strong and powerful and sexy and intimidating. He was everything.

I had had no idea what I was getting myself into.

"I-I... needed a... change," I answered her weakly, hearing the falsity in my own voice.

"Ha!" my best friend scoffed. "Well ex_cuse_ me if I don't want to watch him kill you. Or should I say, you kill yourself, since you're _letting_ him do this! Goodbye, Bella. Have a nice life. Or what's left of it, anyway." All of her steam had vanished by the end of her speech, her voice drifting smaller and more hurt as she continued to the front door.

The door locked as it closed, my pixie of a buddy on the other side because she could just walk away whenever she wanted. The only difference was that this time I wouldn't follow - couldn't follow - and this time she wouldn't come back; she _couldn't_ come back.

**Telephone Booth:**

Rain streamed down the glass, fogging as my harsh pants echoed in the enclosed space.

"Nine-one-one, what's your emergency?"

"Please! You have to send somebody! It's only a matter of ti-" There's a crackling of lightening and the line goes dead.

"Shit!" I bang the phone against the receiver. "No, no, no, _no_!" I only had one chance to get away. He said if I ever tried to leave him, I'd die. It seemed like a joke at first - a screwed way of saying he'd kill me before I left him, but after the second failed attempt, and the week in the ER after a crazy accident...

I don't know how he did it, but every time I had tried to leave, something would happen to me, something unbelievable and strange, until I just stopped trying.

Thunder clapped monumentally as the door on the old telephone booth was ripped open. My breath leaves in a whoosh and I'm stunned still. I can't even make myself turn around to see his face.

"Jasper, I'm s-" I scream as my sentence is cut off by excruciating pain to my scalp. He pulled my hair out, I'm sure of it. It was new growth too.

"What did I tell you, Bella? Hmm?" His voice is surprisingly soft. I can't be fooled to think that he's a sweetheart anymore though. "Didn't you learn your lesson the last time? What is with you? Do you want to die out here?

"I want to keep you safe, dammit!" He roared out.

He always said stuff like that. I never understood it. The only dangerous thing out there was him, and it was too late for me now.

"Please, Jasper. Please." My voice was defeated. I didn't know what I wanted from him - to kill me, save me, make it all go away.

"You don't get it do you?" He spun me around and slammed my back against the shattered glass door. "There are predators out here! You smell far too captivating to be out here like-like..._this_!" He gestures to my favorite sweats and a once white - now see-through - plain t-shirt; the only things I own are literally the clothes on my back.

"What are you-" And that's when I noticed it, his contacts were out. "Jasper? What's...," I had no idea what to say to the slightly familiar man in front of me.

He simply sighed. "Isabella, my Bella, there is so much you don't understand." He squeezed his eyes tightly together before opening them and trapping me within their brilliantly bright red gaze.


	2. I'll Keep Your Secret

**Hmm, not usually my style, but I hope you won't kill me. Even so, I'll take any words you want to throw at me. ~Tay**

**Disclaimer: Steph owns Twilight and domestic violence shouldn't be taken lightly.**

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**Dust:**

"Shit! Miss, you alright?"

From the ground I look up at my savior through a cloud of dust and gravel, trying to hold the tears in. My high heel clad foot had rolled after making contact with a loose piece of pavement from the recent construction. It hurt like hell and I really don't want to embarrass myself by crying in front of a stranger.

The only colors I see are blazing green in a shining inferno of bronze and gold. I'm sure it's just the glare from the sun, like a halo over this man, but for a fleeting moment, while still sprawled along the dirty sidewalk - thoroughly mortified - I am completely fine.

I tell him so and he offers me a hand up, which I take.

"You shouldn't wear those things," the man says as he gestures down to my heels, an amused expression flirting across his lips.

I blush and look down. "Yeah, you're probably right," I chuckle examining my shoes. I just met this stranger and he already realizes I'm a walking catastrophe.

**Secrets:**

"Tell me something I don't know about you," he whispers between lazy kisses on my neck. His wild copper hair lightly tickles my ear at each swoop.

I close my eyes and try to starve off a moan. "Like what?" My reply is breathy. I'm trying really hard to stay focused while giving him more access.

"I don't know, everything, Bella," he sighs. "I want to know all of your secrets." He brushes my long brown hair over my shoulder to graze my collarbone with his tongue.

And because he's dazzling and dizzying - even though we've only been out a few times - I tell him everything, not even giving it a second thought.

**Art:**

"She'll have the steak special, medium-well, with the rice pilaf and roasted field greens. Also, bring her a '99 robust Merlot and a tap water with lemon, please. Thank you."

The server grabs the menus from him before scampering off to place our orders.

My annoyed brown eyes meet his insensate greens. "Edward, I told you I wanted the mushroom ravioli and a glass of Moscato."

"And I told you that you needed something more substantial to eat." His eyes blaze in that all too familiar way and I'm pissed.

He always does this. At first I thought it was being thoughtful but now...now I'm not so sure. It's controlling and I don't like it.

"Besides, pairing food with wine is an art. And, you'll need the energy from that steak for what I have planned for later on this evening."

The air around us shifts suddenly and I'm beginning to realize that maybe wine and food changes aren't the only things he's mastered.

**Voice:**

The china set my mother gave me as a college graduation present lays shattered around my bare feet. I have a few scrapes along my shins from the fine ceramics, but nothing to be panicked over. Teardrops plop down to the hardwood floor surrounding me, appearing to darken the wood as they land.

My head is bowed, slumped, defeated. I'm so tired of this.

"I just don't understand why you have to fight me on every. Little. Fucking. Thing." His voice is cool, calculating. Sadly, over the last several months, it isn't surprising; I've become well acquainted with it.

"Now," he breathes deeply, "Are you moving in with me?"

I simply nod. If I try to speak I'll start sobbing openly, and that'll make it worse.

He isn't appeased. "I can't here you, Bella!" he seethes.

"Yes, Edward. I'll move in with you." I hardly recognize my own voice.

He sighs, relieved. "Good! Now don't move; I need to clean that up, then we'll throw all this other junk away and you can move in today."

Once he walks out of sight I look around at my apartment. I've spent my entire working life building a name for myself and collecting everything in here. It's personal and mine, I worked hard for it. But, according to Edward, it's junk, so to the trash it'll go.

**Shovel:**

Everyone waits on baited breath while Edward draws out his announcement. I feign pretending to squelch a smile. It's a lot tougher than I thought to act as if I'm a terrible actress.

"She said yes!" Edward proudly shouts, leaving me alone to circle the room to hug family and friends.

"What the fuck, Bella? I thought you were getting out," Rose whispers harshly as she nears, masking her disdain with a cheeky smile as to not draw attention to our conversation. She idly lifts and examines the ridiculously oversized engagement ring that now adorns my left hand.

"It wasn't that easy," and she knows I'm telling the truth. It's never that easy with Edward; he never takes 'no' as an answer.

"You realize he'll never let you go now, don't you?" There's a hint of sadness in her voice, dulling her vibrant blue eyes. But I'm familiar with that now, too.

I sigh, swallowing hard, trying to shovel down the onslaught of emotions evoked by looking over her corn silk, blond hair. "I know, Rosie."

We both get choked up and a few tears escape as Edward pulls up to my side. Rose stalks off after a single backwards glance, leaving me as Edward wipes a stray tear with his thumb before gripping my chin, a little too tightly.

"Don't cry. You'll ruin your make-up," he says before kissing my forehead and strolling to talk to my parents.

"Yes, Edward," I say, though he's too far to hear me.


	3. Momma's Girl

**Author's Note: Too long to really be a drabble, but I couldn't help it. Thanks to theswandive for the inspiration and the words. ~Tay**

**Disclaimer: SM owns the Saga, its characters, and our souls.**

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**Exception**

Closing the crappy metal door to my locker for the last time, I breathe a sigh of relief. Finally – _finally_ – I'm getting out of here. I'm getting out of this shitty little high school, in this shitty little town, in this shitty little state. College in the Arizona sunshine is calling my name, along with unfathomable freedoms. I'll finally have the opportunity to be myself, one hundred percent me without anyone getting in my way.

Well, that isn't completely true… There will be _one_ person stopping me from escaping like a bat out of hell. Just a little bit, anyway.

"Hey, Bells." Her voice is like her hair, silken and smooth and ever-flowing.

"Hey, Rose," I sigh, returning her greeting. She's the exception to my reinvention. Hell, she's everyone's exception. She's just too beautiful to be forgotten and I'm too fucking lucky that she chooses me as her friend.

"You ready for the first summer of the rest of our lives?" She rolls her eyes as she says this and I laugh, falling into step beside her as we make our way out of this hellhole.

I can't stop laughing and continue sporadic chuckles as we reach the parking lot and climb into her vintage mustang.

She rebuilt most of it herself.

She's incredible.

Her blue eyes find my brown as we zip and weave along the damp back roads of Forks. "We have to make this summer count," she says, determination coloring her tone. "Boston is so fucking far away. I'm going to miss you next year and we have to make his summer count," she continues as I nod agreeingly, her eyes already refocusing on the road. I think she's saying it more for her own benefit than for mine, but it doesn't stop my heart from twisting in my stomach, my toes from curling in my boots, and my mind from cursing her parents' alma mater.

**Longing**

We're both too drunk to really know what's going on. That's the excuse I'll use when I make my move. This party – Tyler's graduation party – has a never ending supply of liquid courage and I'm going to make my move.

I am _going_ to make my move.

The kitchen's packed full of wasted bodies and I can't find Rosalie anywhere. But I'm stubborn and I refuse to give up. This is the last scheduled celebratory party. All the other parties are at the end of the summer and they'll be more focused on saying goodbyes.

I don't have time for goodbyes. I have this one opportunity to make her mine for the summer – for a night… for _this_ night.

Turning around the side of the house I find the hot tub. There are a few couples in it as well as outside of it. They're all making out, oblivious to the fact that I watch with a fiery jealousy born of longing because no matter what, I'll never be able to be that open with the person that I love. Not until I'm in Arizona at least. But even then, she'll be all the way in Boston. She's so goddamned smart.

By the time I spot her I'm too depressed to make my move. I was going to just lure her into a room and kiss her, but the more I think about it, the more I feel like a creeper, so I change my mind. I mean, the summer isn't over yet. There's still time. We'll have more time.

So when she spends the rest of the night talking about all the courses her mother is making her sign up for, slurring as she calls her an evil wench, I slur back that I'd never make her do something she didn't want to, that she can do whatever she wants to me, and say "nothing" when she asks "What's that supposed to mean."

**Watching**

"It means nothing, Bella. I mean, you know how my parents are," she says to my mirror reflected face as she alternates between her frilly pink top and her red off-the-shoulder wrap.

I just grunt in response. I _do_ know how her parents are; they're self-righteous, bigoted assholes who never pay any attention to their own daughter unless she's bringing attention to them. They don't even know how wonderful she is, how incredibly smart and vivacious she is, and how she can command a room with a single glare. She is power and she is beauty and she is self-sacrificing.

"Seriously Bella, he's probably some ox of a man with three brain cells, four cell phones, a pager, and a dick smaller than the paper bank statement he'll 'accidently' flash me." She rolls her eyes again and imitates walking around her room like some juicehead gorilla. I laugh because she always knows how to make me smile, and tell her to go with her royal blue mini dress. It makes her eyes and legs look amazing.

But the more I sit here watching her, the more envious I because of the 'ox man'. Her parents set her up on this blind date with the son of a blah, blah, blah country club attending, poop-crap millionaire. It isn't fair. And I know that _they_ know how much I love her.

I could be her everything, I'd do anything for her as long as it made her happy.

So when her eyes brighten as she meets the juicehead at the front door and I see a genuine smile ghost her lips, and when she kisses my cheek and whispers in my ear that she'll call me when she gets home, I try to seem enthusiastic, honestly.

And when the car pulls out of the driveway and she looks through the passenger window to wave goodbye, and I belatedly lift a weak wrist as farewell because it feels like I mean more than just for the night, I try to smile back, _really_ I do.

And when she scrunches up her face and gives me a sad smile, I silently beg and fucking _plead_ for her to get out of the car and just come with me – please! – and we can go to Arizona and start a new life and be together…I just want us to be together.

And when the car is out of sight – Rose's face is out of sight – I run all the way home before the waterworks start.

**Exposed**

My phone rings and rings and rings, but I don't answer. I just _can't_. I can't listen to her tell me that she liked the date. That the guy was a gentleman, that he listened to her stories and let her order her own food. I can't hear how his laugh makes her giggle or if they shared a dessert. I won't be able to handle her telling me he's a junior at Boston College and he offered to show her around campus and invited her to his fraternity parties.

I won't be able to survive it.

Even now I can barely breathe as I choke back sobs and cough the snot from my nose and into my pillow. My chest is tight and throbbing and I feel like such a coward. I've had years to tell her how I feel, how she's my one and only, my everything, how the sun rises and sets out of her ass.

I snort a haggard laugh, the thought so similar to something she would say.

…and the tears start up again.

I cry and cry and cry until there's a dip in my bed and a hand in my hair. I hiccup until there's a humming melody whispered across my ear and the pressure of full, moist lips atop my forehead.

My body is shaking, but calms under her touch. I should have known she'd show up here when I didn't answer my phone. We've been friends for too long and she worries about me, she always worries.

Courage is fleeting, but I capture enough to meet her eyes. The look she's giving me makes me feel ten different kinds of exposed. It makes me want to shrink back and hide forever, but I'm a masochist and she's my best friend and it's already so close to those goodbye-end-of-summer times.

"How was your date?" stutters from my throat and I have to swallow against the rising bile.

Rose's lips twitch and something about the movement makes my skin flush and my blood pound in my ears.

"Oh, Bella," she breathes, licking her lips and screwing up her face. "What am I going to do with you?"

Something about the way she says it makes me laugh. She always knows how to make me smile.

And then she's kissing me. And she doesn't stop kissing me for the entire last month of summer, and of course I let her.

And of course when she tells me that it was a fun summer thing and she's got responsibilities to her parents and this can't be more than what it was, I let her off the hook. No matter how much I hurt, I'd do anything for her.

**Fate**

"You know," his gruff voice interrupts my attempts to escape and hang up. "Rosie's not coming home this Thanksgiving this year either," he continues thoughtfully, and I tense. My eyes close and a sigh escapes me. I miss her.

I had called my father to give him the gist of my week and make the same old excuses as to why I'm not coming home for the holidays. He doesn't believe me, but lets it slide. I've been giving him the same tired lines for the past two years. I tell him I'm too busy or my friends and I are having too much fun. He _knows_ I'm lying, I can hear it in his noncommittal harrumph. It's enough to make me feel like a horrible daughter, but not enough to make me go back to that dreary town. I have a new life here, a good one. It could be better, but there's only one person to make that a possibility.

"Oh, yeah?" I ask, trying with all my might to steady my voice. He clears his throat twice before continuing.

"Uh huh, from what I hear from the ol' bitties at the Laundromat, anyway. As it turns out, seems Rosie only went to Boston College because she wanted to make her momma proud." He coughs, "seems she did a lot to make her momma proud."

"Hmm," I response as I stare from my window. It's all I've got. He's bringing up memories of a summer I cherish. Though I never really got what I truly wanted, I did get to spend every waking moment with my Rose, and I wouldn't take that back for anything.

"Yep, she dumped that ol' jocky fellow and took off on a road trip…" He just keeps talking. He tells me how she calls him to check in, he tells me how she cut her hair and burned her bra (I have no idea whether either of those statements are true or not), and he tells me about the last time he heard from her she was on her way to Arizona for some unfinished business.

And as I stare out over the quad, catching a glimpse of corn silk, blond hair, I can't help but feel like this is fate, that this is kismet; that this is what I've been waiting for and this is how I can be myself, one hundred percent myself because I can't live without her.


End file.
